Nocturne
by La Peur
Summary: Voldemort is defeated, yet the war between good and evil endures. Her greatest fear is that she won't be able to save him. DMHG, AU, Books 6 & 7 ignored. Rated M for strong language, violence, and adult themes, WIP


It had rained in London on the first of September, 1997.

At the break of dawn, when Hermione had first yawned her way out of bed to open her scarlet colored drapes, the inviting light of the rising sun came spilling into her room. It had at first appeared as if the day would be beautiful, with the pleasant heat of the sun beaming down on the bustling, smoky capital of England. Now, though, as Hermione sprinted through the narrow roads to get to the King's Cross station, rain was pouring down heavily and leaving puddles on the cobbled ground.

She darted past shop after shop, whilst the inhabitants of which lifted their heads to watch her run by through the large, glass windows. Hermione did not look at or even notice them, however: she was extremely late.

Hermione glanced down at her watch – _10:40. Damn!_

Her detour to a Muggle bookshop – because she just _had_ to grab one last book before she boarded the train – had taken longer than anticipated. The _impossibly_ old owner of the shop, a white-haired woman whose hunchback arched in a funny sort of manner, had taken far too long to ring up the purchase, and Hermione had made quite a big mistake: The Kings Cross was not just around the corner, it was no less than 4 kilometers away!

Determined to catch the train, Hermione picked up the pace and slung her bag - one that she had enchanted to hold all of her school belongings, including poor Crookshanks - over her shoulder. She glanced once more at her watch. Seven minutes had passed and it did not seem as if she was any closer to the Kings Cross.

"This bloody well would happen," grumbled Hermione impatiently, and she suddenly came to a stop. Her chest heaved up and down from the physical strain of sprinting; she would never make it on time by foot.

Initially, Hermione had decided against apparition because there were so many Muggles around. Even though she was seventeen now, a legal adult in the wizarding world, and had passed her Apparition test the previous May, it simply wouldn't do to vanish out of thin air and leave several poor confused people staring dumbly at the empty spot where she had just been.

However, the situation was dire. Hermione thought of what might happen if she failed to make it to the platform by eleven: she would not be able to lead the prefects meeting with the Head Boy on the train, she would miss the sorting, and – most frightening – would almost certainly miss out on the first day of classes. If she didn't board that train now, she would have to wait two more days before the Hogwarts Express made it all the way back to London.

She _had_ to get to the train station.

Hermione's head whipped around frantically, searching for an alleyway or some sort of nook where she could escape from Muggle eyes. The road she was on was becoming more deserted, since most people decided to tuck away into various buildings in order to escape the rain, but she was still visible.

_ Where to go... where to go... where to go... ah! Perfect!_

Spotting what was almost certainly an alleyway, Hermione sprinted towards her destination, almost slipping on the wet ground. Her bushy hair had been caked down by the rain, cascading down into tame curls (it was honestly astounding that as soon as her hair dried, it turned into an unmanageable mess) that were sticking to her face and clothes. Frustrated, she whipped her hair from her eyes and turned the corner, drawing her wand as she did so.

Hermione had expected to find herself in a deserted alley, save for a couple of dumpsters or spare pieces of junk, but when she rounded the corner and entered the narrow space, she was shocked at what she saw.

A man was lying face down on the ground, and his attacker hovered dangerously over him – brandishing a wand!

The man's head shot up towards her, and he looked her directly in the eye.

"_Expelliarmus!" _

Hermione had tried to react immediately, hoping to disable the man, but there was a loud _Crack!_ and he was gone even before her spell was complete. Hermione swore at her failure.

Instinctively, Hermione rushed to the side of the unconscious person, rolling him over onto his back. Hermione gasped, taken aback.

It was Draco Malfoy.

"What in the ruddy..." she thought aloud, scanning him for injuries. Was he alive? His eye had been blackened and blood was trickling from his nose and mouth, leaking into the water and slowly dying it red. She pointed her wand at his injuries while a sense of panic rose up in her chest. "_Episkey."_ His nose, which had apparently been broken, straightened out.

Malfoy moved his head, muttering something unintelligible. Hermione realized that he was conscious, if only just.

"Malfoy!" She shouted down at him, her wand still pointed at his head in case he tried anything dangerous out of confusion or shock. "Malfoy! Get up! You'll miss the train!" She looked at her watch. _10:52. _"Malfoy!" She shook him repeatedly, but then decided that, given his injuries, it was a better idea not to do so.

He seemed to be shaking his head, slowly, moving it back and forth and mumbling inaudibly. Hermione could not decipher whether he knew she was there or not. Hermione let out a frustrated sigh.

She hated –_ hated _– Malfoy, but she could not just leave him bleeding in an alleyway in the middle of London. Especially not when the Hogwarts Express was set to depart at any moment.

Hermine decidedly held on to his arm as tightly as she could, closed her eyes, and then focused on the train station.

_ Platform Nine and Three-Quarters... Platform Nine and Three-Quarters... Platform Nine and Three_ – _Crack!_ She felt the pressure of time and space close in around her, constricting her body and making it difficult to breath – and then she was spinning, spinning, and – there!

She appeared on the Platform, kneeling next to Malfoy and still clutching his upper arm. The apparition seemed to bring him to awareness.

"Granger.." he growled with his hand on his head, and sat up in a woozy type of way. "Touched by a ruddy Mudb -"

"Hermione!" a voice called out from the crowd. She stood to see Harry, Ron, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushing towards her.

"What happened?" Shouted Mr. Weasley, who immediately knelt to Malfoy's side, wand out. All four of them turned to her, staring at her with mostly accusatory faces.

"I just – just found him in an alley -" Hermione stammered, feeling as if blame was creeping over her. The students and their parents who had not yet boarded the train were beginning to stare. "It wasn't me!"

Malfoy was unreceptive to Mr. Weasley's advances. Draco stood, wiping the blood from his face. "It's no business of any of you," he sneered. Then he looked at Hermione. "and I'll thank _you_ not to touch me again."

"Watch it, Malfoy," Ron threatened as his hand shot to his wand, but Arthur stopped his arm.

Malfoy made a show of straightening out his clothes and wiping clean the spot where she had touched him, since Hermione had apparently sullied his perfectly Pureblooded self, and then unsteadily bounded off towards the train. He was making a grand effort to appear poised and collected, but it still looked as if he was unstable and in pain. Fuming at the impudent little rat's ungratefulness, Hermione turned to face Molly and Arthur, who wore expressions of fear, confusion and worry. The Hogwarts Express whistled insistently as it belched out thick, white smoke. It was a warning.

"Terribly sorry," Hermione said. "But we haven't the time to explain – the train and all..."

"Yes, yes, of course dear," Molly agreed, casting a drying charm on Hermione as she spoke. "Now hurry on, then!" The Weasley's gave them parting hugs and kisses, with the occasional nagging bit of advice ("Stay out of trouble! Don't cross Snape! And, Ron, dear, do try to write!") from Molly, and then Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed to board the train right as it began to move.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked as they leaped onto the express, in an extremely loud and suspicious voice. Hermione's eyes darted around for eavesdroppers.

"Is now really the best time?" she hushed him. "Besides, _we've_ got to go to the prefects compartment. Meet up with you after our rounds, Harry?"

Harry nodded and set off to find a seat. Hermione and Ron squeezed through the heavily packed aisle, slowly making their way to the prefects compartment. "Why were you so late in the first place?" Ron inquired as they passed a group of rowdy second-years. "S'not like you, Hermione."

"Yes, well, I had something to grab from a Muggle bookshop. Now that I look back on it, though, I suppose I could have had someone owl it to me..."

Ron shrugged with a half-hearted smile. "'Least you made it and didn't have to fly an enchanted car to school." He then made a threatening move at a young, mean-faced Slytherin boy who cowered back into a compartment. Hermione responded with a disapproving look. "Say, who do you reckon made Head Boy?" He gestured to the 'Head Girl' badge on Hermione's chest.

"It'll be whoever has the top grades, I'm sure. Whoever can offer the most to the school. Anyway, we're about to find out," Hermione answered as she slid open the door to the prefect's compartment.

She had fully expected to see Malfoy, the Slytherin's boy prefect of their year, seated next to Pansy Parkinson, just as he had been for the past two years. What she did NOT expect was to see his 'Head Boy' badge pinned to the right of his pitch dark robes. Had she not noticed that in the alley, or had he just now put it on?

Hermione's heart dropped – as did Ron's mouth.

"_You?"_ Ron gaped incredulously. "How come _you_ were made Head Boy?"

Malfoy scowled. "Because, Weasel, you idiot, I have the best grades next to Mudblood Granger." Pansy sniggered, and the other Slytherins followed. None of the other Houses seemed to find his joke funny. "Besides, Professor McGonagall feels I'll be perfect for the position. Seems to think I'll do better than you, anyway."

Ron began to turn red in the face.

By that time, Malfoy had dried and rid himself of the blood and bruise. If Hermione hadn't known any better, she would have assumed that Malfoy had had a perfectly normal trip to the Hogwarts Express. Judging by the fact that Pansy wasn't fawning over his misfortune like she always did, Hermione realized that Draco did not tell her what had happened. Then, Malfoy looked over at her, locking her gaze in his own. There was something disquieting and uncomfortable about his stare, but Hermione did not break their contact. If she had, he would have taken it as a sign of weakness.

"Bloody prat!" sneered Ron. "That's no way to talk to the person who just helped your pathetic arse get to -"

"Ron, please. That's unnecessary." Hermione interrupted, still not moving her eyes from Draco's cold, unfeeling stare. Annoyance swelled in the pit of her stomach. Had she not just saved him from missing the train? Had she not repaired his broken nose? Had she not scared away his attacker? "We mustn't waste time. Well, let's get on with it, then."

The prefects sat down to business, reviewing all of the old rules and several new ones, and voting on methods to go about punishing or reporting rule-breakers. They discussed curfews, patrol schedules, detentions, trips to Hogsmeade, and the confiscation of illegal artifacts, such as anything sold at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes (at the mention of which, a fifth year Ravenclaw blushed and reached into his pocket, as if hiding something he expected to fall out.) These meetings were always repetitious, always tedious, and always boring. Luckily, though, they never seemed to last long; it was the rounds that were time consuming.

"All right, I think that's everything," said Hermione as she glanced over at Draco for confirmation. When he added nothing more, she dismissed them. One by one, they filed out and went in opposite directions to proceed with their patrols.

"Come on, Hermione, let's patrol the back of the train. S'Always where the trouble happens, anyway," Ron said, holding the door open for her.

"I don't think so, Weasley," came a drawl from behind them. Malfoy was looking at Hermione. "A word, Granger?"

Ron made a mean face. "Back off, Malfoy."

Malfoy sneered. That seemed to be the face he made most often. "You don't get to order _me_ around, _I'm_ Head Boy. Now, if I could please have a word with the Head Girl -"

"What are you playing at?" Ron accused, his voice becoming angrier.

"Ron, don't be ridiculous," Hermione said, annoyed by his over protectiveness. "Just go."

Ron looked dejected, his gaze turning from Malfoy and back to Hermione over again. They both returned his stare expectantly.

"Fine!" he yelled, finally. "But I'm watching you, Malfoy."

Malfoy let out a condescending chuckle. "Ohhh, I'm shaking in my boots," he jeered as Ron, who parted with an obscene hand gesture, turned to exit the compartment. Malfoy slid the door shut behind him and rolled down the window shades. Hermione rolled her eyes at this, for she found it to be an unnecessary measure, and then crossed her arms as she sat down.

Malfoy turned to her, but did not sit. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Hermione shrugged, making a mock-innocent face.

"Ugh, Granger, don't make this difficult. Why did you help me?"

"I didn't help _you, _Malfoy. I helped the poor guy who was face-down in the rain with a wand pointed at his head. It just happened to turn out to be you."

He scowled. "Just give me a straight answer, will you?"

Hermione hesitated, staring into his steely gray eyes. He was practicing Occlumency – trying to hide something. She could tell; no matter how hard the tried, there was a wall guarding his mind – she could almost see it when she met his gaze - that she just couldn't penetrate.

"Because you were in trouble, you dim wit, why do you think? You were bleeding in the rain."

"I would have left you there to rot," Malfoy replied.

"I know," Hermione said, without a tone of surprise in her voice. "That's the difference between you and me, isn't it? Between the brave, honorable Gryffindors and the slimy, selfish Slytherins?"

"Tch. That's the trouble with you Gryffindors. Always willing to throw your stupid selves in harms way for the sake of martyrdom, for _bravery_," there was visible distaste in his words "always meddling in places where your noses don't belong. Especially into things you _don't understand."_

A flag went up in Hermione's mind's eye. "Things I don't understand? Will McGonagall understand? I'm sure she'd love to figure out whatever it is you're up to, Malfoy." She narrowed her gaze at him threateningly. "Or maybe I'll just give the Ministry a ring and tell them all about your recent escapades with Dark witches and wizards."

"I haven't had any 'escapades with Dark witches and wizards,' you stupid bint."

She raised her brow provocatively. "Perhaps not. I just hope you don't have any incriminating evidence when the Ministry comes to call."

Malfoy did not seem to have a reply, so he changed direction. "Did you see who it was?"

Hermione hesitated again. Was he actually wondering who it was, or was he just testing her to she if she knew?

"No," she said finally, resolving that she would not be able to squeeze any more information from him than he was fully willing to give. "He was dressed in all black robes - expensive ones, it looked like. I tried to expel his wand, but he disapparated before I got the chance. I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn't budge, so I apparated the two of us to the station."

"And he saw you?"

Hermione nodded. A dark look seemed to overcome Malfoy's face, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "What in the bloody hell were you doing in the middle of London anyway?"

He scoffed. "Had to catch the train, didn't I?_"_

_ "_ Well it seemed an awful lot like you were _fighting_, not trying to catch the train."

"As if I'm going to tell _you. _We're _equals_, remember? I don't answer to you, Granger."

"Fine, then you can tell McGonagall, instead. I doubt she made you Head Boy without fully expecting to watch you, to see if you've fallen back into your... old ways."

Malfoy was getting angrier. "Need I remind you of my services to the Order last year?"

Hermione was not convinced. "Need I remind you of your services to _Voldemort_ last year?" After all he had done, it was still difficult to trust him.

"Oh, shut up, Granger," Malfoy said. "I daresay I played a rather important role in his fall. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Perhaps," she conceded, then added, "but a spy is a spy. You never can trust them." Guiltily, her mind flashed to Professor Snape, who had, in the end, proven his loyalty to Dumbledore despite Harry, Ron and Hermione's fervent mistrust.

Malfoy had begun to fume. Hermione was just trying to keep a nonchalant demeanor.

"You ignorant little Mudblood," he sneered. "Did your filthy Muggle parents never teach you to be grateful?"

She scoffed, then stood up. It was hard to seem intimidating, though, when one's opposer is a full head taller. "Who was it that just saved you from being beaten to a bloody pulp - or cursed? I didn't get a thank you for that! And _don't_ call me Mudblood."

At this point, Draco looked fed up. He drew his wand (and in that moment, Hermione drew hers as well.) "Just don't tell anybody what you saw," he growled. "Or I'll jinx you into next week."

"I'd like to see you try, ferret."

They both stood there for a moment, wands brandished and glaring angrily into each others eyes.

Finally, Draco lowered his wand, and Hermione did the same.

"_Thanks_," he hissed. "Mudblood."

With that, he stormed out of the compartment. Hermione thought she had seen a real flash of genuine gratefulness in his eye, but it was only for a small, fleeting moment.

She decided that she had only imagined it.

* * *

Hermione spent the next hour doing rounds. She caught up with Ron, who was busying himself with confiscating a dungbomb from a third-year Ravenclaw. The patrol continued with little excitement for the most part. She had reprimanded a few students for their preposterous language or behavior, but after she and Ron had confiscated most of the illegal items and gotten most students to retreat to their compartments, they returned to Harry and Ginny, who were enjoying some sort of sweet from the trolley.

"Oy!" Harry greeted them happily through a mouthful of chocolate. She and Ron sat down.

"Guess who's Head Boy!" Ron said indignantly.

"Malfoy," Harry and Ginny answered immediately, obviously having guessed from Ron's tone of voice.

"How'd you know?" Ron asked, a bit put out. He had apparently wanted to deliver the news himself.

"Well, he's got top marks, hasn't he?" Harry answered, but then quickly added, "next to Hermione, of course. It figures as much. All I know is that I'm glad McGonagall didn't choose me."

Ron shoved a chocolate frog into his mouth, and pocketed the face-card featuring Glynnis Griffiths of the Holyhead Harpies. Ginny left the compartment in a distracted manner, muttering something about finding some friend of hers before they arrived at the castle.

"So what happened earlier?" Harry asked eagerly. He was always excitedly receptive of information on Malfoy, especially if it was incriminating. Hermione recounted the story of running through London and finding Malfoy, and of the following confrontation in the prefects compartment.

"Hmmm..." pondered Harry. "Dodgy."

Ron agreed. "He must be involved in something sketchy, again, that little sneak."

Hermione sighed, nodding. "But we don't know that for sure, do we? I mean, _he_ was the one under attack."

"That doesn't mean he's innocent, Hermione. After all, he's supposed to be being watched in case he's up to anything. Don't you find it just a bit suspicious that he's ended up beaten in the alley?" Harry countered.

"Well, yes, but -"

"And he isn't supposed to be messing around with those types of people – Snape said so."

"Yes, but - "

Ron interjected. "Not to mention he's a right foul git."

"I just don't think we should jump to conclusions is all!" Hermione said quickly, before they could manage to interrupt her again. "He did help us last year, in case you've forgotten."

"That doesn't mean anything," Harry said hotly. As far as he was concerned, Malfoy was just as much of a slimy toad as he had always been. "You put too much faith in people."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Merlin you two are hard headed."

They said little more on the subject, and instead spent the rest of the train ride chatting about teachers, their classmates, expected school work, N.E.W.T classes, and Quidditch (which Hermione ignored.) Neville and Luna, who, they announced, had been dating for the entirety of the summer, joined them halfway through the trip. Neville was excited about some Herbology advancement he'd recently discovered, and Luna, as usual, was going on about wrackspurts and how some fictitious creature had destroyed her Spectrespects.

Eventually, the sun set, sinking below the lush, green hills of Scotland, which they took to be a warning that they were close to the castle. They changed into their school robes and after a few moments, came to a halt in Hogsmeade. Hermione heard Hagrid's familiar, bellowing voice as he summoned first years to exit the train first. As the six of them (Ginny had returned in somewhat of a frustrated huff) stepped off the train and made their way towards the carriages, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed past them.

"Move, Potty," Draco growled, shoving him to the side. Hermione felt Harry crash into her, and she almost lost her balance before catching herself on Neville's shoulder. Harry and Ron probably would have hexed Malfoy if she and Ginny hadn't held them back.

"He's not worth it, Harry," Ginny pleaded.

Harry, who was always weak to his girlfriends requests, obliged. The boys shot a dark glare at the three Slytherins, who were shoving through the crowd to get to a carriage.

"He certainly is a mean one, that Malfoy," Luna commented in a dreamy voice, before leaving with Neville to board a carriage.

* * *

It was always somewhat majestic to ride up to the castle, watching its twinkling lights pour from the many windows. The long stretch of dark, starry sky had left the bothersome rain of London behind it. There were no clouds in the sky and nothing obstructed the astounding view of the moon, the stars, and all the natural magic of Hogwarts. The only thing that was different about this carriage ride was that now Hermione could see the thestrals pulling the carriages very clearly. The war had done that to her – she had seem many people, some of them dear friends or at least classmates, perish.

Flashbacks of the smoke-filled air invaded her mind. Visions of spells and curses and jinxes and hexes shooting through the sky, colliding with each other and causing explosions of magic, played in front of her eyes. And death - there was so much death. So many bodies, most of them thrown unceremoniously out of the way, were piled onto of one another. For a moment, Hermione felt like she was there again, in the castle, trying to fight off a hellbent Bellatrix Lestrange.

Then Hermione snapped back into reality, noticing that she had zoned out completely while staring at the thestrals. As she looked around, she noticed that she was not the only one who could now see them. Several students, most of them in their seventh year, but also many who were younger, wore expressions of surprise mixed with disgust: thestrals were not the most beautiful of creatures.

Then, all was suddenly very quiet in their carriage. The four of them bowed their heads, almost simultaneously, and Hermione knew they were each remembering the battle that had taken place on those very grounds only three months earlier. Solemnly, Hermione lifted her head, staring out onto the black lake where the first years were crossing the water, with their lanterns bobbing up and down, as they approached Hogwarts for the first time. Then she looked the other way, and her eyes settled on a head of blond hair as he rode in his own carriage – Malfoy.

To her surprise, he was staring back at her.


End file.
